


In Case The Scene Stays Nasty #1

by softlyforgotten



Series: fistfights! [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2010-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Brendon & Ryan moved to Chicago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Case The Scene Stays Nasty #1

"How have you got so much _stuff_?" Spencer asked, collapsing back into a chair and eyeing the half-filled cardboard box in front of him darkly. "The place always looks so bare."

"Well, the cupboard space was what sold me on it in the first place," Brendon said absently, folding a sweater carelessly. He looked up and grinned, pressing his clasped hands to his heart and saying, "It's what's _inside_ that counts. Isn't that right, Ross?"

There was a muffled giggle from the bathroom. Brendon stopped smiling. "Ross?" he called, and exchanged a wary glance with Spencer. There was no reply, and after a moment Spencer crossed the room to him and they tiptoed to the bathroom, and flung the door open.

Jon and Ryan looked around guiltily. "We're cleaning," Ryan said.

"That is absolutely what you're doing," Brendon agreed. "You are in no way drawing in toothpaste on the mirror."

Jon grinned sheepishly. "It's a robot?" he offered, and Brendon groaned.

"Oh my god," he said, "you're _four_ ," and Ryan scowled at him.

"That's rich," he said coldly. "Coming from someone who—"

"Who what?" Brendon demanded, drawing himself up, and Spencer made an impatient sound and grabbed Brendon's elbow, dragging him away.

"You two, seriously, give it a rest," he said.

"I can't help it," Brendon said, sulkily. "He's a jerk."

"You both are," Spencer told him. "Especially to each other. Considering how much you actually _like_ each other, it's ridiculous."

"I don't like Ryan," Brendon grumbled. Spencer raised an eyebrow at him and stood there silently like he was the fucking Zen Master or something, and Brendon was two feet tall. Brendon said, weakly, " _You're_ ridiculous," and Spencer laughed.

"C'mon," he said, "let's scrub the skirting boards."

*

  
Spencer and Jon left around eight that night, after they'd all eaten pizza on the floor and mocked the contestants of The Price Is Right. The TV and the mattress were pretty much the only things of Brendon's left in the house; everything else was getting packed up in boxes for the Salvation Army or the dump, or in suitcases to take with them. The walls were clean, the sinks scrubbed, surfaces polished. It looked cleaner than it had when Brendon moved in. There was no way he wasn't getting his safety deposit back, thank god.

After they'd seen Spencer and Jon out, they came back to the mattress, sharing the only quilt. All of Ryan's stuff was packed neatly in a corner, with the plane tickets resting neatly on top. Brendon got up and checked the dates on them for the umpteenth time.

"We're not going to miss the flight," Ryan said.

Brendon turned and looked at him, half-smiling. "I know. I've just had, like, a million nightmares where we sleep past it, or go on the wrong day, or you -- anyway. It's stupid, I know. Sorry."

Ryan blinked at him, sitting up. "Or I what?" he asked, face blank in the dim light."Nothing," Brendon said. "They're just dreams, it doesn't matter." He turned and walked into the kitchen, ate a piece of leftover crust over the sink, staring at nothing out of the window.

"What is it?" Ryan repeated, and he sounded determined. Brendon knew that voice, knew what Ryan sounded like when he wasn't going to let something go.

"It's not really anything," he said. "I just -- I dream that I'm on the plane without you. That you've missed the flight, or decided not to go, or whatever."

"Hmmmn," Ryan said. "We're going together. I don't think there's much chance of me missing it."

"I know," Brendon said, without turning around. "Hence the whole illogical dream thing."

"And I want to go to college," Ryan added, seemingly ignoring him. "It's not like I'm gonna change my mind about a scholarship."

"I know," Brendon repeated. He swallowed the last bit of bread, and for a moment there was quiet. Then he startled as Ryan pressed up against him, warm and unexpected, draping himself over Brendon's back and tucking his chin over Brendon's shoulder, closing his eyes. Brendon stayed very, very still.

"And," Ryan murmured, without opening his eyes, "I'm not leaving you."

Brendon tried to say something, but his voice came out strangled and breathless. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Right."

Ryan made a humming noise and curled closer, nuzzling against Brendon's neck. He said, soft as a whisper so Brendon had to strain to hear it, "M'not sure I could."

"Right," Brendon said again. He let Ryan lean against him, and stared down at the flickering lights of Vegas below.

*

  
Ryan was silent on the flight, and after a few snapped responses Brendon gave up on talking to him and listened to his iPod instead. After a little while, Ryan stole one of the headphones and put it in, glaring at Brendon like he thought Brendon was going to yell at him, and then he went quietly, inconspicuously to sleep against Brendon's shoulder. He looked sad, even asleep, and Brendon's stomach churned unpleasantly. Ryan had held onto Spencer and Spencer's mom at the airport for approximately a million years, and Jon had looked like he wanted to cry. Brendon had stood awkwardly apart. He had maybe, secretly been hoping that his parents would show up. It didn't matter, anyway.

Ryan woke when Brendon turned off his iPod as the plane began its descent. He blinked sleepily at Brendon and said, "We here?"

"Yeah," Brendon said. He pulled his seatbelt on. Ryan looked at him curiously and didn't move, so after a moment Brendon put on Ryan's seatbelt for him, leaning close. Ryan caught his mouth; tiny, soft kisses that barely made a sound and didn't attract anyone's attention, their faces close together, and the wheels of the plane touching home.


End file.
